


The meaning of what happiness is

by lesbleusthroughandthrough



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Liverpool F.C., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2016-05-07
Packaged: 2018-06-06 13:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6756646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbleusthroughandthrough/pseuds/lesbleusthroughandthrough
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan didn’t dislike cats. In actual fact, he didn’t have much to do with them. But he already hated this one, with vocal cords like someone hacking at a tin can with a potato peeler.<br/>-<br/>Okay, I don’t want to be that jerk but our building has a strict No Pet Policy and your cat will not stop meowing and I WILL report you and oh no you’re cute AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	The meaning of what happiness is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [doubtthestars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [欢乐满人间 （The meaning of what happiness is）](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7298677) by [natalia_lip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalia_lip/pseuds/natalia_lip)



> Title is from the song Memory in... the musical, Cats.  
> Thank you to my wonderful, wonderful beta who is responsible for basically all of the grammar in this.
> 
> I can't remember the last time any of James Milner's teammates referred to him as anything but "Milly".

 

 

There was a sound coming through Jordan Henderson’s bedroom wall, and it was not the sound befitting a technical place of serenity. In fact, it sounded quite like three hundred lions dying an excruciating death.

Jordan knew that was an exaggeration but Jordan didn’t care. This was the second night of it and this time playing calming sea noises over the din just wasn’t working for him. In fact if anything, the waves that were meant to be soothing his brain as they lapped around inside of it now sounded rather aggressive, like those of an incoming storm.

Jordan Henderson had to get up for work in exactly eight and a half hours and he knew that, if this kept up for much longer, he wouldn’t be getting up at all.

He was a good neighbour. Truly, he wanted to live the mantra of treating others as he wanted to be treated, and so he never spoke to anyone in his building and spent as little time as he could here, in his depressing box for one. Flanno and Studge lived in a much livelier area and their place was full of colour and _fun_ , but it was also expensive, and Jordan didn’t sleep well on their couch.

He gave it five more minutes - in reality, this was probably more like five more seconds - before he pulled himself up and tugged his earphones out. He sat, contemplating the consequences for a little bit longer. Then he heaved himself out of bed.

Every damn day, he walked past the sign propped up at reception, the one with the dog silhouette circled and crossed through with a big, red ‘X’. No pets. And he could sort of understand why this was a thing, as his eardrums stung.

He pulled on the first cardigan he could find and slipped on some trainers, ignoring the awkward feeling of them rub against his feet without socks. This would only take a minute.

He quickly walked – marched - across his living room and scooped his keys from the bowl on the table beside the front door, and stepped out into the night.

It was cold. Too cold to be only out in flannel and a cardigan. Cold enough for his breath to smoke up in front of his face and freeze up the inside of his lungs with such force that it burned.

Jordan didn’t _dislike_ cats. In actual fact, he didn’t have much to do with them. But he already hated this one, with vocal cords like someone hacking at a tin can with a potato peeler.

He stopped outside the front door of the first apartment down the row and hesitated. The din still rang out in his ears- it wasn’t so loud from here, but even the hint of it made him prickle so much that he couldn’t sort out his thoughts. Like the kind of thoughts that helped him find the doorbell. So he stared at it for several seconds, wondering, before it occurred to him to press it.

He waited. Ten seconds - the etiquette - but the noise didn’t stop. And no one answered the door.

So he rapped it with his knuckles instead (changing to a little bit more of a forceful slam with his palms by the third attempt) when the door swung open and he had to leap back to avoid punching the face of the guy who now stood at the doorway, releasing the full sound of the yowling cat out into the night. But suddenly, that didn’t matter.

“I’m your neighbour,” Jordan started on a reflex, just as the guy dropped the hand that had been forcefully smushing his face to look up at Jordan with the roundest, brownest eyes, and, as though Jordan was being faced with a puppy who desperately wanted a bite of his sandwich, Jordan’s heart melted instantly. “I…” Jordan’s neighbour had a fringe. A very soft, shiny fringe that looked lighter than air- and Jordan would have believed it to be so, if it hadn’t just very slowly slid down over his forehead. It made Jordan’s neighbour frown, made his face scrunch together in a display of the most unthreatening anger Jordan had ever seen. And so Jordan lamely finished: “… your cat.”

His neighbour’s hands dropped from his fringe to the bridge of his nose, and he groaned as he squeezed it. “I don’t know how to make it stop,” he said, his voice as soft as his hair. And he turned around and walked back into the flat, holding the door open with one hand.

Jordan was stunned but he followed, his head overriding any thoughts he might have had about walking into strange flats with strange men, because he had never considered the possibility that any of his neighbours might be _cute_ , and this was an _incredible concept._

“He’s in here,” Jordan’s neighbour said, leading the way into the kitchen; and he pointed to the top of one of the cupboards. “He’s been like this for a few days, and it’s getting worse,” his voice cracked, “I don’t know what to do.”

Jordan just about managed to tear his eyes away from his neighbour’s face - there were the almost-fuzzy beginnings of a beard that spread down over his cheeks and dusted his upper lip in a thin moustache, and three tiny lines between his brows where his frown started. He then looked up to the top of the neighbour’s cupboard, and saw his neighbour’s cat - one of those round, fluffier ones, grey and with yellow eyes that gave him a slightly extra-demonic air, and were definitely reflective of the possessed, yowling noises that it was spitting out of its permanently opened mouth.

“Have you tried,” Jordan had to raise his voice over the noise. “The vet?”

“I don’t know how to get him down,” the guy said. “I don’t want to hurt him.”

The cat let out a particularly disturbing snarl that made Jordan flinch and reach reflexively for this throbbing ears. “I’ll do it,” he said, instead of _well if you don’t want to hurt him I certainly do._ “I need a ladder and a pillowcase.”

“A what?”

“I saw a fireman take a cat out of a tree once,” Jordan had to yell, “I need a ladder and a pillowcase.”

His neighbour started, and disappeared out of the kitchen.

Jordan glared at the cat, who hissed back - definitely a warning, definitely directed at Jordan.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jordan informed him.

“He’s not afraid of anyone,” a voice said from behind him. His neighbour was back, with a footstool under one arm and a red checked pillow case in the other. “Please,” he said, his grip tightening when he handed them over, “don’t hurt him. I’ll, uh, um. I’ll just go and get his cat box,” and he disappeared again. Jordan was secretly relieved because in the minute and a half he’d known the guy, he was already developing a habit of getting really lost in his eyes. Eyes like lovely, warm, melted-fudge labyrinths.

“I won’t,” Jordan didn’t want to lie, but he didn’t see any other outcome - this cat had _resistance_ written all over it. However, for the sake of ever being invited back here, Jordan decided to try his best. He unfolded the ladder and opened up the pillowcase as he climbed.

The cat caught onto his move about half a second before Jordan executed it, and lashed out with a massive, furry paw that Jordan just about dodged, saving his eye - which had clearly been the intended target - but he felt his cheek sting anyway, and he just about kept his balance as he leaned back.

“Fuck _off,_ ” he growled, and the cat let out an indignant yowl in reply. Jordan didn’t even hesitate. In one swoop, he brought the pillowcase down over the cat and scooped him up, turning it inside out as he did, but not without casualties, as another large, spear-like claw raked up his arm, causing him to yelp in surprise.

“Is he okay?” Jordan’s neighbour was clinging very tightly to the cat box.

“Is _he_ okay?” Jordan demanded, as he backed down the ladder holding the squirming cat-sack at arm’s length.

If anything, the yowling had been dulled to a low, if very angry, snarl, and it stayed that way when Jordan tipped the cat into his carrier. The cat, obviously sensing defeat, crouched low, looking like a small, grey tumbleweed.

Jordan wiped his cheek where it itched, and jumped when the back of his hand came back dusted with shiny red. He swore, and his neighbour let out a frustrated moan.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, pulling his hair back from his face again. And suddenly Jordan didn’t care, because when he reached up to do it, it lifted the edge of his top and revealed his bare hip - Jordan had made the mistake of letting his eyes follow the movement, and saw the beginnings of what looked like a very elaborate tattoo. Jordan was totally transfixed. “Sit down, I’ll get something for that. Over here,” he pulled out a chair at the kitchen table, and Jordan fell into it - like he would have been able to do anything else - watching his neighbour open and shut cupboards with increasing urgency.

“Crap,” he pulled up a chair in front of Jordan, the scrape of it off the tiles actually more painful than anything else against Jordan’s still-tender ears. He grabbed at Jordan’s arm, turning it so the scratch from the cat faced the light. “Shit,” he said, now softer, as Jordan looked down to see a small line of blood trickle down his arm. The cut still stung a bit, but he was so much more preoccupied with the current development of this astonishingly soft-looking guy, that had been living next door to Jordan _without Jordan ever noticing_ , holding onto him. The pads of his fingers pressed into Jordan’s skin with definite care, but Jordan had to wonder if he wouldn’t still be feeling the sensation hours later.

“I can’t believe he made you _bleed_ ,” he said, shooting a filthy look at the softly-hissing cat box. Jordan felt light-headed and he was sure it wasn’t blood loss. Instead, it was because venom on this guy was about as intimidating as that of a growling field mouse. “I’m so sorry.”

Before Jordan had a chance to reply, he leapt up again and was over at the sink within seconds. Jordan watched him wet one end of a tea towel and was still far too dazed to do anything until he felt it pressed to the edge of the cut. It stung with force and he yelped.

“I’m _so_ sorry,” the guy said, again. “Shit, this is deep.” However, his apology didn’t stop him from continuing to wipe Jordan down. Jordan wanted to hold it against him, but then he remembered that he got up that stupid ladder of his own volition.

“It’s fine,” he said, deciding that it was. “What’s your name?”

The words fell awkwardly enough out of his mouth that the guy blushed, his eyes dropping sharply back down to Jordan’s arm, that he was suddenly holding with considerably more pressure. He hesitated for a second, then put the tea towel down on the table. He reached into the box that must have materialised out of thin air - Jordan didn’t know because Jordan couldn’t concentrate; the guy was biting down on his lip and it was the most fascinating thing going on in Jordan’s life at that moment.

“I’m Adam,” he said, concentrating on squeezing soft pink cream from a tube - that Jordan recognised to be Germolene - onto the back of the hand that held Jordan’s arm up by the wrist. “Um,” he nodded at the cat box. “That’s Milly.”

“Milly,” Jordan echoed. Adam spread the cream over Jordan’s cut, and Jordan was sure it hurt, burned, probably- the edges of his eyes sure felt wetter. But all he was thinking was _Adam, Adam, Adam_ , _I’m Adam_ and he was trying to decide exactly at what point he’d declared “Adam” to be one of his favourite names.

“Yeah, I know he’s a guy cat, but that’s the name he arrived with,” Adam was a soft pink colour himself, when he looked up and frowned. “He got your face too?” he said, with dismay. He reached back past what Jordan had now realised was a first aid box for the tea towel again, and before Jordan could even finish his sharp breath he’d pressed the wet end of it just as gently into Jordan’s cheek. Suddenly his thumb hovered over Jordan’s skin worryingly close to his mouth, and for leverage, he had pulled Jordan’s arm level with his hip, and Jordan now found himself feeling the sharp edge of it under his hand.

“Um,” Adam said, and Jordan could see the changing shape of the light in his eyes, like a kaleidoscope: realising too late what he’d done. The area of Jordan’s lip that was closest to Adam’s touch burned, a little bit like the open wound he had that was now drowning in antiseptic. His stomach felt weird, like it was busy turning itself inside out.

Suddenly, the cat box let out a formidable yowl, enough to make them both jump, and for Adam to let go.

“I should get him to the vet,” Adam said, throwing another distasteful look in the direction of his cat. Jordan still couldn’t tear his eyes from him, from Adam - there was so much about his face that Jordan still had to take in: like the small crease on his cheek that told of a well-used dimple, and the strong line of his angry jaw.

“Where’s the vet?” Jordan asked. “Is there one on call?”

“Um,” Adam was combing his fringe back again, as it continued to defiantly flop forward. “I think… I think there’s one…” he flicked his wrist up, to look at his watch, “and it’s only two buses away, it’s not too bad.”

“ _Only_ two buses?” Jordan echoed. “Can’t you drive there?”

Adam shrugged, and looked back up at him, a little desperately. “I only got here two weeks ago,” he said, biting his lip in that terribly distracting fashion, _again_ , “I don’t even have a car.”

And, so, Jordan found himself driving through town at midnight in his pyjamas, with his sort-of new neighbour in the passenger seat and a still vaguely angry cat box balanced on his lap; it continued to make intermittent hissing noises, and it reminded Jordan of the sound of a saucepan boiling over.

_He’s not that cute,_ he told himself. _He’s not that cute. Don’t look!_ His neck cricked as he turned it back to the road. He had nearly convinced himself that the guy’s face was too lined and that he had a rather large, crooked nose; but then Adam had looked up from where he’d been cooing gently into the cat box and he gave Jordan a soft smile. It was a horrible mix of relieved, sleepy and grateful and Jordan gave up trying to convince himself otherwise.

The pet hospital was deserted - maybe there just weren’t many incidents at midnight on a Tuesday - and Adam handed over the angry cat box to the unreasonably perky vet tech on duty.

“Alberto,” he chirped, as though his name was a reason for his liveliness. “Please to meet you. So what have we here?” He lifted the front visor of the box to eye level, and was met with a displeased yowl. Jordan and Adam, clearly jaded by Milly’s attitude at this stage, didn’t even react - but Alberto held the cat box out at arm’s length, startled.

“Oh boy,” he said, chuckling nervously. “We have an unhappy one here, eh?”

“His name’s Milly,” Adam said, and Jordan could tell he was feeling particularly useless and had to find _something_ to say.

Alberto the vet tech looked at Adam, and then looked at Jordan - first his cheek, and then his arm, that was still stinging the whole way from his wrist to his elbow. “Eh,” he said, “looks like we’ll need elbow grease for this one. Philippe!” he called over the counter, and the door to the back opened and the slightest guy ever walked out. Jordan felt his eyebrows rise with the question, but it quickly became apparent that for whatever Philippe lacked in stature, he made up for in enthusiasm.

Jordan and Adam followed them into one of the consulting rooms. Alberto placed the cat box down on the table and made to unlatch it when, quick as lightning, a grey paw lashed out at his hand and Alberto - with much better reflexes than Jordan, clearly - leapt back out of the way just in time.

“Ohh, er.” Alberto frowned - still almost comically perky about it, though - and then he eyed up Jordan. “We’ll need you too, I think,” he said, waggling a finger at him, just as Jordan thought, _not again._ “Yes, you’ll do. Unfortunately,” he shrugged, “I’m not that much of a cat person.”

“Are you even allowed to admit to that?” Jordan wondered out loud. Beside him, Adam collapsed with laughter; the manic, sleep-deprived kind, and it was sudden enough to make Jordan jump. But it was lovely, and when Adam had to clutch his sides and turned his face into Jordan’s shoulder for support; Jordan briefly wondered if this was the definition of happiness unfolding before his very eyes.

Adam regained his composure far too fast - Jordan could still hear him hiccupping a little behind him, as he cautiously approached the counter.

“So,” Philippe explained, “take this.” He handed Jordan a thick towel. Jordan clearly looked at him, confused, so Philippe continued. “When Alberto opens the box, I’m going to wrap him in _my_ towel to lift him out. Then, I’m going to reach back and wrap up his back legs - they’re the most dangerous ones - and you’re going to try and get his front ones. Careful of the teeth though,” he finished, as an afterthought.

Jordan opened his mouth to suggest a practice run, but too late; the cage was already open. It was all over within a matter of seconds - Jordan had to admit, Alberto and Philippe seemed to be reasonably weathered professionals, but he also didn’t want to point out that the fight seemed to have gone from Milly, who had perhaps realised a lost cause when he saw one. His tail still flicked with fury against the metal table-top, and he let out low hisses as Alberto placed his fingers over his ribs experimentally. As he did, Alberto’s eyebrows rose and fell as he went through the full spectrum of confused facial expressions. Jordan looked back over his shoulder to try and catch Adam’s eye - maybe he’d giggle again, and it would be worth it - but Adam was clutching his face, looking slightly paler than before.

“Hmmm,” Alberto said. “Ah-ha!” He’d prodded low on Milly’s stomach, and Milly had let out a more pathetic yowl than normal, echoed in the distressed sound that Adam made, suddenly at Jordan’s shoulder. “I think we’ve found our problem. Is there something stuck in there, huh?” He asked, ducking his head to ask the cat, who growled at him. “Looks like he ate something he shouldn’t have, and it’s got stuck somewhere past his stomach. So it’s big,” he said, and Jordan guessed, that couldn’t be good. “We can x-ray to check, and maybe we’ll even find out what it is!” Again, unnecessarily chirpy, while Adam looked on in despair. “Is that okay?”

Jordan watched Adam swallow and nod, and he felt his chest squeeze a little bit. He wondered how on earth the tiny grey ball of rage - that required the efforts of three different people to pin down - could be so deserving of the devotion that Adam clearly reserved for him. Jordan wondered how he could get up on that gig. Following the cat’s lead, something told him, probably wouldn’t work.

“Okay. Okay! So we’re gonna give him a little shot now, to make him a little bit woozy,” Alberto pulled out a syringe and Jordan felt Adam shrink back. “It won’t hurt him,” he promised, but Milly hissed anyway, if a little feebly. “Okay, Philippe- you can wrap him back up now.”

Milly looked less formidable wrapped up in a white towel like a monochrome burrito. He did still look very pissed, and took the opportunity to glare at Jordan with a look of such extreme distaste, that Jordan had to cover his mouth so he didn’t laugh.

“If you can spare an hour,” Alberto told him, before he disappeared out the back, “we should be able to tell you the problem. Maybe even less time, we’re not very busy.” And he gave them an overly cheery smile, before disappearing.

Adam sank down beside him in the bucket chairs in reception, rubbing himself awake.

“When’s the last time you slept?” Jordan asked, realising.

“Feels like years,” Adam said miserably. Then he thought about it. “Saturday.” He cleared his throat and rounded on Jordan. “Thanks.”

His eyes were the worst in round and brown and sincere. Jordan said, “You’re welcome.”

“You can go home,” Adam leaned his head back against the wall as he sighed. “I’ll get a taxi after this, its fine.”

Jordan shrugged.

Adam said, “You don’t have to help me.”

“Yes I do. I like cats,” Jordan lied, instead of: _I like_ you. It was still worth it though, as Adam’s face relaxed, as though this was firm proof that Jordan was a good person. When really, if this was proof of anything, it was that he was a _terrible_ person. “So I can wait.”

Adam seemed surprised at how firmly Jordan said it, and looked like he was going to comment before he shifted around in his seat. It wasn’t long before he moved again to face Jordan, though.

“We only moved here two weeks ago,” Adam said, again. _We. He means the cat too,_ Jordan realised, _and not some hidden other half._ “Henderson right?” Now there was no cat to interrupt them, Adam had obviously decided that this was prime chit-chat time. “I sometimes get your mail.”

“Yeah?” Jordan was surprised. “How do you know? I just said I was your neighbour. There are thirteen people on our floor.”

Adam grinned, and it was splendid. “I’ve met everyone else on it,” and his eyebrow cocked, self-importantly.

Jordan leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He’d hoped to break eye contact, but somehow that just didn’t happen.

“Two weeks ago?” He said, sort of changing the subject.

“Yeah. I got promoted.” The word should have been said with pride, but instead it just made him sound even more tired. “I’m run off my feet,” he explained. “We have a really important meeting with our wholesalers tomorrow, and I really don’t need this,” he gesticulated at the reception of the animal hospital, and the receptionist at the counter looked down, pretending not to be invested in their conversation.

“Cats are assholes,” Jordan said, by accident. He made to retract it, but Adam laughed, in a slightly relieved way and combed his fringe back from his face again. Then he let out a rather spectacular yawn.

The time dragged. Jordan didn’t even want to check it, to find out how slowly it was passing. He was so exhausted that his eyes hurt, but his heart was racing particularly fast at the fact that Adam was pressed to his shoulder. He even seemed to jerk awake when Alberto came out the front of the reception, and called them.

“It’s bad news,” Alberto said, “but also good news!”

“Bad news first,” Jordan offered, as Adam’s hands flew to his head, and Jordan saw him tug at his hair with a little too much force. Before he could tell himself to do otherwise, he lifted his hand and slung it behind Adam’s shoulders, resting it against the back of his neck and squeezing where his shoulder began. As he’d hoped, it made them drop suddenly. But, more than he’d hoped, Adam leaned back into his hand and sighed.

“He definitely has something stuck in there,” Alberto held up a faded x-ray to the light. “You can see it here,” and he pointed at a muddled mess of grey, as though whatever it was should be instantly discernible. “My educated guess - from experience - is that it’s probably a sock.”

Adam coughed. His shoulders started to tighten again, right until Jordan pressed his hand back. “A _sock?_ ”

“Yes,” Alberto chirped. “Mostly likely a sock. If you hang around here long enough, you see that it’s a cat’s favourite form of protest.”

“Protest?” Adam echoed. And then he moaned. Jordan raised his hand to catch Adam’s head as it dipped backwards. “I’ve been working all the time,” he explained. “Late at night, weekends. Milly’s been on his own a lot.”

“That’s exactly the kind of-, “Alberto started, and shut up under Jordan’s death stare. “I mean. It’s a fairly routine procedure. If we can keep him here tonight, and operate in the morning, he should be able to go home in the afternoon.”

“When in the afternoon?” Adam demanded.

“Oh, good question. Before five would be ideal, after that it gets tricky with release papers, and feeding and-“

“I’m working late,” Adam said, exasperated. “Can you-“

“I can,” Jordan interrupted, surprising himself. “I can collect him before five.”

There was silence, as Adam looked at him in shock, and Alberto looked pleased.

“Excellent!” he declared. “Let me go and book him in… I’ll need his insurance details too, if you’ll follow me?”

Adam looked like he was going to follow for a second, but he looked at Jordan instead. Too late, Jordan realised that he still had one hand cupped around Adam’s neck. And Adam’s neck was suddenly _warm._

“You don’t have to,” Adam whispered. If he was going to add anything, he didn’t when Jordan started to rub down his shoulder. Jordan wondered if he was imaging how receptive Adam was to being touched like that. By _Jordan_. Did it make this whole adventure worth it, to imagine those tiny little breaths that he let out? And that he seemed to rise to meet Jordan’s hand?

“It’s fine,” Jordan promised. And it was. Jordan would even put up with an afternoon of the manic demon cat: anything for Adam now. “I’ll be in the car.” And he let go.

They drove home in silence, relative silence, without the penetrating yowls of Satan’s favourite fur-ball. Jordan supposed he should feel sorry for Milly now, because as it turned out he was actually sick. He didn’t though.

“Um,” Adam said, when the car stopped. “I guess… I don’t know when I’ll be home after the meeting tomorrow. It could be any time between seven and midnight.” He stretched up and scratched the back of his head. “So,” his eyes flicked up to Jordan, and back down to the ground again as they neared the lift, “I’d better give you some of Milly’s things. Some food. His litter tray. His blanket. Stuff like that.”

_His blanket?_ Jordan wondered. _Okay._

“Sure,” he said, as the lift reached their floor.

“I don’t know how to thank you,” Adam said, helplessly, unlocking his front door.

“Then don’t thank me,” Jordan offered, and when he smiled at Adam, he was relieved to see a small, sort of fond, smile back. This all felt worth it, suddenly.

_Since when do_ you _sell out for a cute guy?_ He asked himself, as Adam pushed his door open. _What is going on?_

Adam hesitated in his kitchen. “Where are my manners?” he asked, half-laughing. “Tea?” he offered.

Jordan shrugged, because why not at this point?

Adam made a satisfied noise, and went back to searching his cupboards - placing two mugs down on the counter beside Jordan. He seemed to stop, and look at him for a long moment.

“Look,” he said. “If you don’t mind…”

“Don’t mind what?”

Adam’s face cracked into a conspiratory grin. Then he placed a bottle of whiskey down on the table instead.

“Uh. That’s not tea,” Jordan said, dumbly. It was late. Or early - he didn’t even know any more.

“No,” Adam said, sheepishly. He paused, and then started unscrewing the lid, pouring a generous dollop into each mug. “I think I need this more, though.”

_It’s only a cat,_ Jordan thought. But they clinked mugs anyway.

Adam downed his in one impressive swallow, coughing when he put his cup back down with sudden force. “Whoa,” he said, through the splutter.

Jordan had considered himself to be a bit stronger than that, but the alcohol burned down his throat and hit his stomach, which had been doing weird things for the last few hours as it was, and he wondered, for a horrible moment, if he’d be able to keep it down. But it passed.

Adam regained his composure slowly, but he laughed a little bit in the middle of it. Jordan recognised the knackered edge to it, because he wasn’t far off it himself.

“I’m so tired,” Adam admitted, running his hand over his face, back through his hair - he suddenly had more lines under his eyes. “That I think I only needed that much to get me drunk.” He lifted his mug and squinted to the bottom of it, as if to see if there was enough left to try and salvage. Then he tipped it back the full way. Jordan saw his tongue reach around the inside of the rim, and he swallowed, thickly, looking away.

“Same,” Jordan agreed, vaguely, resolving not to look back until his body calmed down.

“Yeah,” Adam sighed. “At least if I was drunk, I probably wouldn’t feel so bad for Milly. But, also, I could probably get away with doing something really stupid right now.”

“Like what?” Jordan asked, slightly alarmed at the tone, and the weird determination in Adam’s eyes.

“Like this,” Adam said, and then he pulled Jordan to him and kissed him.

* * *

 

By the time Jordan reached his bed again, the glowing red of his alarm clock greeted him with some truly terrible news: there was only one hour between now and when it would burst into song to let him know it was time to get up. Jordan crawled into bed anyway, hypnotised by the gleam of the numbers.

He should be tired. Certainly, his body felt tired. His limbs felt too heavy. His eyes felt horribly dry, but even when he closed them his brain buzzed and whirred and showed no signs of slowing down.

Whiskey tasted sweet on Adam’s lips. Portions of Jordan’s neck burned after careful examination by Adam’s teeth - injury was definitely an occupational hazard of being in his flat. Jordan wonderfully, blissfully, did not even care. His hands itched, wanting to be back on Adam’s body. _Adam._

He wracked his brains, trying to think of a weirder night he’d ever lived. He came up with nothing because while some had certainly been weird, they had never quite been as wonderful. Jordan couldn’t really remember the last time it had felt so good to be wrapped around someone, but maybe that was just his sleep-deprived, twitterpated brain running on overdrive.

Anyway, when his alarm went off, he hadn’t slept at all.

He dragged himself through the day. He thought he would be useless at work, but he found himself being more productive than usual. He was waiting for himself to crash, waiting for four-thirty to arrive with more excitement than he’d felt since Christmas as a kid. His heart wouldn’t quit racing - it slammed unreasonably hard against his chest all day.

Maybe it was all the coffee he’d had. Or the all sex he’d had.

_Home?_ Read Studge’s text, and Jordan could almost see him: appalled. _What are you going_ home _for so soon after work? You_ hate _going home._

Jordan would tell him, but not yet. He wanted to keep Adam to himself for another while.

In the midst of it all, he nearly forgot about the cat.

“It was a sock,” the receptionist informed him, nodding sadly when Jordan blanched. “Not pleasant. He should be right as rain in a few hours, he’s much better since he came ‘round. Do you want to go out the back and collect him?”

Milly was hunched in the corner of the cage and, armed with a towel, Jordan could not believe the things he did for a lay as he crouched to reach him.

“Alright, little guy,” he murmured. “I know you’re not gonna like this… come on…” and he scooped him out as gently as he could.

He expected, at the least, some resistance. But Milly went limp in his hands, and let out a loud rumbling noise that wasn’t all that unlike that emitted by a combine harvester.

“What’s _that,_ ” he exclaimed, nearly dropping Milly altogether.

“He’s purring,” Philippe said, as-a-matter-of-factly.

“I _know_ ,” Jordan snorted. “But he’s… you heard the noise he made last night.”

“Well, one sock can make all the difference, you know.”

_Tell me about it_ , Jordan thought.

Milly looked a lot less formidable when Jordan lifted him out onto his living room carpet (rather tentatively; Jordan’s cheek still stung a bit from the memory of their previous encounter the night before), but that could have had something to do with how half of him had been shaved since the last time Jordan had seen him. There was, literally, less of him. He also blinked sleepily, and let out a frustrated mewl when he wobbled a bit. Then, worse, he turned his head and rubbed it off the inside of Jordan’s arm when he reflexively reached out and steadied him. He made to crawl onto Jordan’s lap, but Jordan stood up quickly.

“We’re not friends yet,” he informed him, and he could have sworn that Milly looked _disappointed._

_But how’s that possible? He’s a_ cat!

“No,” he said, again, when Milly let out a pathetic, sad noise. It ended in a soft peal, a pure, high note: like a bell. “Adam made me bring your blanket, so you can sleep on that. Over there,” he finished, pointing. Lazily, Milly’s yellow eyes followed for a brief minute, before they flicked back to Jordan. He made the pathetic noise again.

Deciding that bargaining was going to get him nowhere, Jordan left him in the middle of the living room and moved back into his kitchen. Adam had been in his head all day, and especially the notion that Adam would be working late. As if cat-sitting wasn’t enough, Jordan wanted to do _more_ for him, anything to make Adam’s face light up and finally finish off Jordan’s poor, besotted heart. He was thinking dinner. Making dinner? Ordering dinner? He opened and closed his fridge, his cupboards, wondering what on earth Adam liked. He didn’t feel like it was something he could get wrong.

He was tossing up the idea of lasagne and was lining the ingredients up on his counter top when he was rudely interrupted by Milly’s arrival. Literally - he careered onto the counter from nowhere, knocking pasta sheets and dried oregano onto the floor as he skidded to a halt.

“What are you _doing_?” Jordan said. “You have _ten stitches._ ”

Milly did wince slightly as he pulled himself into a sitting position, licking his lips in an incredibly self-satisfied manner. Jordan could hear him purring again, it was now so impossible to miss; he full-on rumbled like a steam train.

“What?” Jordan asked, exasperated, as he tried to tidy up the mess. “Want do you _want_ from me?”

The cat lifted himself up, his head tilting as he padded down the counter top (“This is a _work surface,_ Cat”) and stopped when he was close enough to reach out and tap Jordan’s arm with his paw - once, twice - and then he lifted himself with his other to balance on Jordan’s upper arm.

“What are you doing?” Jordan asked, to the cat now sniffing the air around his face. Jordan saw the area around his lemony eyes tighten, and then, he tipped forward and _rubbed his cheek off Jordan’s jaw_.

Jordan was too shocked to move, if he wasn’t already destabilised by the rumbling of the cat. Then Milly started to climb his arm, and wobbled, and Jordan found himself twisting to catch him. Which, of course, was all part of the cat’s devious plan, because then he stretched out across Jordan’s folded arms to curl his head back against the crook of his elbow.

“Dammit, Cat,” Jordan said. Milly responded by arching his spine more into Jordan’s chest, and his tail flicked up to tickle Jordan’s nose.

And yet, Jordan couldn’t even be mad. Something weird in his chest _swelled_ , at this tiny little body that had made itself totally at home, literally _on_ his arms. And then Milly rested his cheek very softly against the inside of Jordan’s elbow, and Jordan felt himself melt.

“Okay,” he conceded, “fine,” as the decibel of the purring increased. Jordan carefully lifted a finger and smoothed back Milly’s whiskers, and watched his eyes droop.

_Oh no_ , Jordan thought, _oh crap. He’s adorable._

Slowly, and carefully, so as not to disturb his snoozing cargo, Jordan abandoned dinner and went back into the living room.

When he sat down, Milly’s head lifted and he let out a whirring noise, like a freshly wound automaton. It was the _most_ delightful sound Jordan had heard so far that day.

“It’s okay,” he soothed, “I’m just sitting.” He sat back into the couch. “See?”

Milly blinked lazily at him, and yawned, showing off an impressive collection of tiny needle-teeth and a long, pink tongue, and when he lifted his paw to lick it, the softest looking pads on his feet.

“Are we buddies now?” Jordan asked, as Milly completely ignored him. “Is that how this is going to work?”

He wondered if he’d find himself cat-sitting more often. He wondered if he’d really mind.

“You’re so cute,” Jordan heard himself say, after another minute consumed with the delicateness of Milly giving himself a bath. He wasn’t sure if he was delirious now, or if he meant it. He scratched softly at the fur behind Milly’s ears, and decided, maybe, he meant it. Milly’s little hum against his chest was weirdly soothing, and Jordan suddenly remembered that he hadn’t slept at all, and how comfortable this couch was.

He didn’t even think he’d fallen asleep until he woke up again to the dull sound of the doorbell, with his neck bent double at the weirdest angle. The cat purr against him also cut out, and Milly looked as confused as Jordan felt when he lifted his head.

“Who’s that, huh?” Jordan murmured, scratching behind his head. He noted that Milly’s hair was even fluffier right behind his ears, and he seemed to really like that, pushing into Jordan’s hand and kneading his arm with his claws. The needling didn’t even bother Jordan. “I think it’s Adam, you reckon?” He cuddled Milly close as he stood up, suddenly so afraid that he would go slipping onto the floor.

Adam looked considerably fresher in Jordan’s doorway, although his hair was slicked back neatly- obviously in keeping with the crispness of his suit and tie, and Jordan decided he liked it a whole lot less than the loose Adam he’d left in bed that morning. But then Adam saw the cat and his face lit up like a new sun.

“ _Hey,_ ” he said - somewhere between a whisper and a shriek, if that were even possible. He reached and sank his fingers into the cat’s fur, scratching up his side and under his chin as he leaned towards him. “Look at _you_ ,” Jordan heard him murmur. “And you made a _friend_.” He twisted his neck to look up at Jordan, and smiled at him a bit differently; it suddenly turned shy, and his cheeks ripened. Jordan didn’t realise that he was already beaming himself. Oops.

“How did you get him to do that? Wow, he likes you,” Adam said, sounding fascinated. “He doesn’t sit in _my_ arms like that. Granted,” he admitted. “He probably wouldn’t fit.”

“Well,” Jordan just said it, it was like the words didn’t even pass through his head, “I’m not surprised. _You_ fit pretty well in my arms too.”

If possible, Adam went _redder_ , letting out a delighted peal of laughter and shaking his head to acknowledge the fact. Then he paused, and burst into incredulous laughter again. His shaking hands displeased Milly, who turned his head away, looking suddenly grumpy.

Adam righted himself, all delighted blush and stupid, soft smiles. He cleared his throat, dropping Jordan’s eyes suddenly. “I, uh,” he reached down to his side and picked up the plastic bag on the ground beside him, “I’m still trying to find ways to thank you.” He pulled the plastic away to reveal a cling-film wrapped casserole dish. “I made brownies. Uh,” he stammered, packing them up again once Jordan had looked, “not _now_. Last week. They’re frozen, but very microwaveable.”

_He makes_ brownies _,_ Jordan thought, astonished. _What kind of lottery have I hit?_

He leaned, as Adam did, and they kissed somewhere in the middle. Jordan’s lungs screamed, suddenly devoid of air. Milly let out a squeak, forgotten as they squished him when they moved together.

“Sorry, lad,” Adam grinned, stroking down his unimpressed, fluffy cat head. His fingers on his other hand sat warm around the back of Jordan’s neck, even though their ends were chilly where they curled into his skin.

“Hey,” Jordan said softly, “would you like to come in?”

And in that moment, Adam’s smile was the only thing that mattered.

“Sure,” Adam said. “I’d like that.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Adam has brownies because he has been bribing the rest of their floor to not tell about him keeping the cat. I have decided.
> 
> Thank you so much to the Spring Fling mods for organising the exchange, because otherwise I never would have written this story without it!
> 
> My [tumblr](http://lesbleusthroughandthrough.tumblr.com/).


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